The Distant Joke

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-22 19:47:06 -

The Distant Joke

The quill was dry, the nib cracked at the tip, and my fingers were stained with the black iron-gall ink that had seeped into the whorls of my fingerprints over twelve years of service. I held it up to the candlelight, turning the broken tip against the flame until it glowed orange, a tiny, dying star in the dark of the High Spire. Outside the window, the city of Ashford lay in a blanket of fog,...

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